


Day 17: On the Floor

by Venusdoom3



Series: 30 Day Stucky Porn Challenge [17]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge, Floor Sex, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8466478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venusdoom3/pseuds/Venusdoom3
Summary: Steve turns his big blue eyes — barely watery at all; at least, not so much Bucky'd comment on it — up to Bucky's face. "Please tell me I'm not on my own, Buck," he pleads, his deep voice barely a whisper. "Tell me you'll never leave me on my own."





	

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. ~~Naked cuddles~~  
>  2\. ~~Naked kissing~~  
>  3\. ~~Masturbation~~  
>  4\. ~~Blowjob~~  
>  5\. ~~Clothed getting off~~  
>  6\. ~~First time~~  
>  7\. ~~Half dressed~~  
>  8\. ~~Skype/Facetime sex~~  
>  9\. ~~Against the wall~~  
>  10\. ~~Doggy style~~  
>  11\. ~~Caught/walked in on~~  
>  12\. ~~Fingering~~  
>  13\. ~~Rimming~~  
>  14\. ~~69~~  
>  15\. ~~Sweet and passionate~~  
>  16\. ~~Public sex~~  
>  17\. ~~On the floor~~  
>  18\. Lazy morning sex  
> 19\. Outdoors (woods, park, garden)  
> 20\. Your own kink  
> 21\. Shower sex  
> 22\. On the desk  
> 23\. Trying a new position  
> 24\. Loud sex  
> 25\. With Toys  
> 26\. Can't make a sound  
> 27\. Rough (biting, scratching, etc.)  
> 28\. Role playing  
> 29\. With food  
> 30\. Whatever pleases you

** Day 17: On the Floor **

"Huh."

"Huh what?" Bucky asks, distracted by the box of dishes he's putting away in the tenement apartment's small kitchen. Aside from the cupboards, there's just enough room for a small wood stove, an icebox, and a tiny butcher-block table with two chairs. What else could a couple of bachelors who don't even know how to cook need?

"Yeah... I think this'll work," Steve says, and Bucky glances through the kitchen doorway to find his friend standing by the small living room window, staring dreamily out at the dreary day.

It's just so _Steve_ that Bucky can't help grinning. He sets down the box, dusts his hands off on his pants, and joins Steve at the window, peering out to see nothing but grey sky and the row of brick tenement buildings across the street. "What'll work?"

"This place. The apartment," Steve says with a weak smile. Bucky has seen only these spare attempts, shadows of Steve's former brilliant grins, since his mother, Sarah, received her terminal diagnosis a few months before. Only a couple of weeks after that, she had passed away, a victim of the same tuberculosis that plagued her patients at the hospital where she worked as a nurse. With no way to make the rent by himself at the place he and his mother shared, Steve had accepted Bucky's offer to move in with his family until they could find a place of their own.

And here they are, standing in their very own three-room apartment. Bucky picked up the keys from the landlord this morning, and if the ancient Irishwoman had peered suspiciously at him for moving into a place with one bedroom with another young man, well, what of it?

"Well, good." Bucky slings an arm around Steve's scrawny shoulders and gives him a friendly squeeze. "I thought we already decided that when we signed the lease, though."

Steve gives him an elbow to the ribs, but it's as weak as his smile. "Yeah, yeah. I just mean... the light is good, so I can draw, and I like the view, and we even have hot water."

Never mind the peeling wallpaper, the uneven wood floors, the single bathroom shared among the four apartments on their floor, and the air pollution from the nearby factories.

"And the best part," Steve continues, turning away from the window, crossing the small parlor to a stack of boxes next to the ancient couch, and sitting cross-legged on the floor to sort through the box nearest him, "is that it's _ours_."

"Yup," Bucky agrees, sitting on the couch behind Steve and placing his hands on Steve's shoulders, "it's just you and me, pal. Us against the world, right?"

"Yeah." Steve's voice is soft enough to be nearly inaudible, but Bucky has good hearing plus over ten years' experience in reading Steve, and what he hears sounds like a tremor. He knows what Steve's thinking: being out on their own like this underscores just how much his life has changed as of late, first and foremost being the sudden absence of his mother, who raised Steve on her own and kept the sickly but tenacious little runt alive for over eighteen years and fought every day of her life to give him everything he needed.

Sliding off the couch, Bucky settles on the floor and puts his arm around Steve again. This time, Steve leans into him as if he's too weary to remain upright. "I miss her, too," Bucky says, resting his temple against the top of Steve's blond head. "Not like you do, not by a long shot, but your ma was a second mother to me."

"I know." Steve sniffles, swiping at his nose with the back of his hand.

"She'd be real proud of you, Steve. You're gonna do her proud, being out on your own like this."

"I'm not on my own."

"Well, you know what I mean—"

Steve turns his big blue eyes — barely watery at all; at least, not so much Bucky'd comment on it — up to Bucky's face. " _Please_ tell me I'm not on my own, Buck," he pleads, his deep voice barely a whisper. "Tell me you'll never leave me on my own."

"Stevie." Bucky's chest tightens, and he wraps Steve tightly in his arms, holding his much smaller friend against his chest. "You _know_ I'd never leave you. I never did before, did I? You and me, we're a matched set, buddy. Nothin's ever gonna come between us."

"Promise?"

Steve's lower lip quivers, and, without thinking, Bucky brushes it with the pad of his thumb. It's so soft and lush, he does it again, watching Steve's eyes slip closed, and before he has time to consider what he's about to do, Bucky leans in and replaces his thumb with his own lips. Steve doesn't recoil like Bucky half expects him to. In fact, he shifts the slightest bit closer and presses harder against Bucky's lips, prompting Bucky to flick his tongue out to taste Steve, who gasps and opens his mouth for him.

Bucky's not about to refuse that.

Tucking one hand behind Steve's head and the other behind his back, Bucky kisses him, soft and sweet, as he lays Steve down on the floor. Steve wraps both arms around Bucky's waist, sighing into the kiss, and Bucky braces his knees on either side of Steve's body, trying to conceal the way the kiss and Steve's sounds and his neediness are affecting Bucky's body. He can't help moaning, though, when Steve tightens his arms, tugging Bucky closer, and their pelvises brush.

Bucky pulls back to find Steve staring up at him with his eyes stormy and half lidded, his lips glossy and red. "You're not teasin' me, are you, Buck?" Steve whispers, and what's left of Bucky's resolve cracks directly down the middle.

"No way," he murmurs, stroking Steve's cheekbone with his thumb. "Do you want this?"

"I want _you_."

"Good, then we're even." Bucky gives Steve a smile that he hopes are equal parts sexy and reassuring, and the relief that spreads over Steve's face tells him he wasn't far off. "Stevie?"

"Mmm?" Steve seems distracted trailing his fingertips down Bucky's front, pausing to open each button on his shirt.

Bucky swallows, watching Steve's long, slender fingers progress until they reach his waistband, at which point they tug his shirttails out of his pants and spread the shirt open, pushing it back over Bucky's shoulders. As Steve pulls the hem of Bucky's undershirt upward, he meets Bucky's eyes.

"Were you sayin' something?"

"Uh." Bucky loses the last of his train of thought, struggling out of his undershirt before bending down to crush another deep kiss to Steve's waiting mouth. "Fuck," Bucky moans against Steve's lips as Steve's hands smooth over his bare chest and stomach, settling on the button of his pants.

"Can I?" Steve asks, shyer than Bucky has heard him sound since the day they met in grade school.

Fixing a smoldering gaze on him, Bucky rolls Steve on top of him, surprising a laugh out of Steve. "You better," Bucky says, covering Steve's hands where they rest at his waistband with his own. "But only if you really _, really_ want this."

"I want it." Steve makes short work of Bucky's fly and spreads his pants open, his eyes flickering to Bucky's exposed underwear before meeting his gaze again. "I always have. You gotta know that."

"I wish I did," Bucky says, lifting his hips and allowing Steve to slide his pants down. "God, Stevie, if I knew we coulda been doin' this earlier…"

Steve chuckles and closes his hand over the tent in Bucky's underwear. "Me too."

"Fuck!" Bucky's hips jerk upward into Steve's touch. "You gotta let me get—" He sits up, capturing Steve's mouth in another long kiss while he scrambles to open Steve's shirt, stripping Steve to his briefs and guiding him to straddle Bucky's lap.

"Ah," Steve manages, his fingers clenching on Bucky's shoulders as Bucky rubs his knuckles over the telling stiffness in Steve's underwear. "J-jeez, Buck…"

"That's nothin'," Bucky whispers, kissing his way down Steve's concave belly as he pulls Steve's briefs down, releasing Steve's stiff prick, which Bucky eyes, open-mouthed, before looking up at Steve in disbelief.

"What?" Steve asks, brows gathering in self-consciousness.

"Oh my _God_ ," Bucky breathes, wide-eyed. "You've been holdin' out on me, punk."

Blushing wildly, Steve shakes his head, chuckling. "Shut up."

"Make me."

Steve raises an eyebrow, shades of the old, playful Steve evident on his red face, and Bucky's heart sings. Steve tugs at the waistband of Bucky's underwear. "Get these off and I will."

Bucky lifts his hips so quickly he nearly throws Steve off, yanking his underwear down and off in the blink of an eye before casting his eyes expectantly at Steve again, and Steve lets out a genuine belly laugh, clutching Bucky's neck to avoid toppling over. This presses his hips against Bucky's chest, and Bucky cups Steve's ass in both hands, mouthing wet kisses up Steve's sternum.

"Can I touch you?" Bucky murmurs, staring up at Steve with an adoration that borders on reverence.

"You can do anything you want to me." Steve sounds breathless in a way that has nothing to do with his asthma.

"Wrap your legs around me." Bucky guides Steve into position in his lap, lining up their cocks and wrapping his hand around both of them, and Steve whimpers, his eyelids fluttering. "So beautiful, Stevie," Bucky whispers, cupping the back of Steve's head with his free hand and pulling him into a gentle kiss, his other hand gripping their lengths and beginning to stroke them together.

"Oh." Steve rests his forehead against Bucky's, staring, dazed, into Bucky's eyes. "Shit. That feels good."

"Oh, _fuck_ , yeah." Bucky's voice is hoarse, and he's a little dismayed but not at all surprised at how close he is to shooting off within mere seconds. Steve is everything he ever imagined and more, all translucent white skin and hard angles and soft lips, and the soft but urgent sounds Steve makes are the sweetest music Bucky has ever heard. He wants more, everything, anything Steve will give him, but for now, in the grey light of their first afternoon in their shared apartment, this – in all its beauty and wonder and discovery – is enough.

"God, Stevie," Bucky moans, his hips making aborted little rolling movements, and Steve rolls with him, holding onto Bucky's shoulders and lunging in to crush their lips together. With his tongue in Steve's mouth, Bucky feels as much as hears the soft gasp and whimper Steve gives when he comes, shuddering as he shoots over Bucky's hand. The heat of it sends Bucky over the edge, too, and he cries out with his face buried in Steve's neck until the spasms subside, leaving the two of them twitching and boneless in each other's arms.

"You okay?" Bucky kisses the side of Steve's head after a while, his fingertips tracing soothing patterns over Steve's sharp shoulder blades.

Steve lifts his head and smiles at Bucky, the expression beautiful and sated and genuine. "I am as long as I got you."

"You got me as long as you want me." Bucky should know better than to promise such things, but the future stretches endlessly ahead of them at this moment, and he feels invincible.

Steve ruffles Bucky's hair, both of them ignoring the cooling wetness splattered over their laps and the floor. "Good," Steve says, the smart-ass smirk Bucky has missed so much spreading over his face, "'cause otherwise, living together might get a little awkward."

"I'll show you awkward."

"What else is new?"

**

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos may be the cure to any number of diseases; how do you know they aren't?


End file.
